


Cold as Ice

by supersleepygoat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Assault, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-17 21:15:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16981932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supersleepygoat/pseuds/supersleepygoat
Summary: Dean is cured and forced to relive the memories of what he did to you while he was a demon.





	Cold as Ice

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the warnings! This is non-romanticized non-con. It’s dark and may be triggering. If anything in the warnings upsets you please do not read. Always Keep Fighting.

“You look worried fellas,” Dean says with a humourless laugh. 

Sam and Cas share a look of hesitation. Sam uncaps his flask of holy water and splashes it in Dean face. Dean flinches as the water hits him but doesn’t recoil with burning pain. He is cured. 

“Welcome back, Dean,” Sam says with relief. If this didn’t work he wouldn’t know what else to do. Despite everything he’d done as a demon, Sam is happy to have his brother back. 

However, Dean doesn’t hear a word his brother says. He is distracted by the sudden onslaught of realization. The memories of what he did to you are coming back to him in full force. He tries to jerk himself free from his restraints. He has the misconception that if he could move his arms, he could claw the memories out of his mind. Dean thrashes in his chair as he is forced to relive the moment. 

Sam and Cas stand at the ready. They assume something went wrong with the cure. But, when Dean raises his head again, his eyes are not black. Instead, his sweet green eyes are glistening with tears. The light reflects off the wetness and makes his eyes shine a little brighter than usual. 

“Where is she?” Dean asks with a broken voice.

* * *

 

You pull on your favourite pair of pajamas. To anyone else, there is nothing too special about them. There is a cute cartoon puppy playing chess on your t-shirt. But either than that, there is nothing about them stands out. The reason these are your favourite pajamas has to do with the fact that they were Dean’s favourite pair. For some strange reason the dog on your shirt would always make him smile. He said that the dog reminded him of Sam, a big nerdy puppy. So, you would wear these PJs whenever you wanted to see him smile. That is why they are your favourite.

But tonight, you are wearing them for a different reason. You’re wearing them to remind yourself of happier times. 

Dean has been gone for weeks. He was supposedly killed by Metatron and then disappeared. You haven’t stopped looking for him since. You and Sam split up to expand your search. You keep in touch and share leads but on the whole, you’re on your own. Sam became a different person after Dean left or was taken, you’re not sure which. Sam is driven by one goal and will do almost anything to achieve it. By the time you parted ways, he was resorting to torture and manipulation to get information from people. 

You have taken a different approach. Finding Dean may also be your one and only goal but you believe there is another key to finding him. 

You have spent years loving Dean from afar. And with pining, comes keen observation. You know him. You know what he likes, what comforts him, and even his favourite hiding spots. He is a creature of habit. Dive bars, strip clubs, and burger joints. If Dean is truly on the run and doesn’t want to be found, it is more than likely that he will be lying low in one of these places. Living life on the road, small town bars became his home. And, you believe he would be hunkering down somewhere where he feels safe. 

It’s been a tedious search. You’ve focused your attention on towns in which you have traveled to together in the past. But, you are starting to reconsider your plan. You sit on your motel bed and look over a map of the Midwest. He could be anywhere. Your plan may be naïve but it’s all you have. You’ll never give up. When you find him, you want to be able to look him in the eye. You want to be able to honestly say you did everything in your power to find him and didn’t compromise who you are to do it. Dean would never forgive you if you hurt someone for his sake. 

Your eyes are straining as you go through hours of security footage. It is the dead of summer and this crappy motel doesn’t have air-conditioning. You walk over to the fridge hoping to get some cold water to bring down your body temperature. When you open the fridge door, no light comes on and you realize the stupid thing is broken. The water bottle you put in there hours ago is now hot and disgusting. 

You groan with frustration as you grab the empty ice bucket and turn toward the door. The humid night air instantly makes a sticky layer of sweat coat your skin. The ice machine is across the parking lot and under a secluded stairwell. On your walk, you try and figure out which town you should hit next. If you weren’t so lost in your thoughts, you would have noticed a familiar black car parked on the far side of the lot. 

What you are looking for has already found you. 

You lift the lid to the ice box and bend over it to scoop some of the frozen treasure into your bucket. When you’re finished, you turn around and crash into what feels like a brick wall. You stumble back and drop your ice when you realize the obstacle is actually man. Your inner hunter kicks in and you raise your fists ready to protect yourself. 

It is dark under the stairs. But, there something familiar about the shadowy silhouette in front of you. Your hands lower as familiarity turns to recognition. A wide smile spreads across your lips and you let out the breath you have been holding for the past few weeks. You finally found him, or rather he found you. 

Without warning, you spring forward and wrap your arms around Dean’s neck. You tell yourself not to cry, you don’t want to make it too obvious. You feel Dean’s arms tighten around your waist and he pulls you closer. He lowers his head and buries it in the crook of your neck. He breathes in your sweet scent. If you could see his face, you would see a wicked grin on his lips and ebony in his eyes. 

He breaks the embrace but keeps you in his arms. “I heard you missed me,” Dean sings at you. 

“Where the hell have you been? How could you not have called me, or especially Sam? He’s going crazy trying to find you!” Now that the relief of finding him is wearing off, your pent-up anger is breaking through the surface. 

“Do you really want to talk about Sammy right now?” He asks with petulance as his grip over your hips tighten. 

“What are you doing?” you ask as he closes the already short distance between you. He doesn’t stop until you are pinned between him and the ice machine. 

“What you’ve always wanted me to do,” he informs you before leaning down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss. 

You try to push him away but he refuses to budge. This can’t be Dean. Something is wrong. Your Dean would never kiss you. He has never shown any interest in being with you. You can’t let yourself believe this is real. You dig your nails into his shoulders and continue to push him back. He barely even flinches under your efforts. He is stealing the air from your chest until your lungs burn with need. He doesn’t relent until your head starts to feel fuzzy from a lack of oxygen. 

He pulls away from you. Before you have time to catch your breath he is spinning you around and bending you over the ice machine. You heart races as you try and push yourself up. Dean grips your hair by the roots and forces your face down onto the grimy surface of the metal box. He just holds you there. 

You kick back and swing arms hoping at least one blow will land hard enough that he’ll let you go. “What the hell did you to do Dean?” You ask the creature behind you. You’re not sure if he is spelled or this is a shifter but this sure as hell isn’t your Dean. 

A soft chuckle comes from behind you, it sounds so much like him. “Babe, the Dean you knew got an upgrade. I’m more me than I have ever been.” He leans down to whisper in your ear, “And, I’m going to give you what the old me was too afraid to.”

You crane your neck as far as he will let you. You see the pink and raised mark on his arm and you know it is doing something to him. It has changed him. He catches you staring at it and gives you a wink. For a second you could have sworn you saw his eyes go black. But it is so dark under these stairs you assume it was a trick of lighting. 

“Alright, let’s get this over with. I’ve got some business to handle tonight,” he informs you with a bored tone. 

You think he’s going to kill you. What he does next doesn’t even cross your mind as a possibility. 

He grazes his fingers across your lower back. He then hooks his fingers into the elastic waistband of your sleep shorts. Your heart drops as he starts to tug them down over your hips. You kick back against him and try in vain to push yourself up. 

You open your mouth to scream hoping to catch someone’s attention. But, Dean’s grip over your hair tightens and he lifts your head up only to bring it down again over the metal beneath you. The first time he did it, you could hear something crack. Then you felt warm thick liquid streaming from your nose. You don’t have time to focus on the pain before he repeats his action two more times in quick succession. On the last time, he caught your temple over the metal and your vision became blurry and your head got heavy. 

“If you try and make another sound, I won’t be so gentle next time,” he warns you. He holds himself against your weakening body. Your head is spinning and you know you should fight him off. But, your limbs are becoming more and more limp with every throb of your head. 

He returns his attention to your waistband. 

You know he told you to stay quiet but you risk the consequences. “Please, Dean don’t do this,” you beg as you sputter on the blood that has dripped into your mouth. “Please, I’ve never…” you try telling him you’ve never had sex before. You have the delusional hope that he wouldn’t do this to you for your first time. 

“I know what you are. You’re my sweet little Y/N. So innocent. So virginal,” he sings as he trails the pads of his fingers down your back. “But, that’s over now,” he says as he rips your shorts down until they pool at your feet. He sees you aren’t wearing any underwear and starts laughing. “You trying to make it easy for me? Such a good girl,” he praises you as he grips your bare ass with his large hand.

You try and jerk away from his touch but there is nowhere to go. You are trapped in his hold. Your eyes water over and you beg him to stop. 

His fingers leave your hair to curl around the back of your neck. “I thought I warned you to keep that pretty little mouth shut,” his fingers tighten. “I know I let it slide once but do not test me, sweetheart. I will shove my cock so far down your throat you won’t be able to swallow solid food for a week,” he clarifies his threat. 

A silent sob escapes you as you hear him unbuckle his belt. He kicks your legs apart and uses his one free hand to hold your lower back still. Without warning, the blunt tip of his hard cock pushes against your entrance. You squeeze your eyes shut and brace yourself for what will inevitably happen next.

He does not ease into you or take things slow. With one forceful thrust he is tearing you open. You bite back you scream of pain as the burning stretch is too much to bear. 

“Fuck, are you a little wet for me? I knew you’d like it rough. I’ve always known you had a pathetic little crush on me. But, I never knew you wanted me this bad. It’s always the quiet ones who are slutty little freaks,” he mocks you as he circles his hips. 

Among your flurry of emotions, a shame rises within you. He thinks you like it. He probably doesn’t know that women get a little wet when they are scared or in a threatening situation. It is a biological defence mechanism that is supposed to protect you from situations like these. It is supposed to make it a little easier to bear so you don’t get assaulted while dry. But now, he is misunderstanding your wetness as arousal. Now, he won’t stop. 

He uses your body to fulfil his own desire. You don’t know what that desire is. You don’t know if he’s doing this for pleasure, for power, or just to break you. But what he says next partly answers that question. 

“How does it feel knowing this is all you’ll ever be worth? The man you  _ love,”  _ he mocks you with that word, “thinks you’re nothing but a desperate whore who is only good for a quickie under the bleachers.” He sees fresh tears spill over your cheeks. He laughs at you before leaning down to lick them off your cheek.

Your cheek drags along the surface of the ice machine with each forceful thrust. You can’t tell if the metallic you taste is from the metal you are bent over or the blood flowing down your throat. 

You always knew he was strong. But as you struggle against him, are just now realizing the full extent of his strength. You have never been on the receiving end of his power, until now. His pace borders on violent as he uses you. “Virgin pussy so tight,” he grunts. You know he’s not talking to you. You don’t even think he cares you’re still underneath him. You are an afterthought. 

His pace falters and you pray that he’ll be finished soon. The pain never subsided into pleasure. Everything hurts, or rather you know it is supposed to hurt. But, all you feel is numb. The numbness crept inside you from the moment he bent you over. The closer he gets to his release the closer you get to yours. Except, your release won’t come in the form of an orgasm. Your relief will only come when he pulls out of you and leaves you alone. Then you can end this once and for all and let the numbness take over completely. 

His rhythm becomes more erratic. “You want me to cum inside you, baby? Want to see if I can fill you up and make you nice and round?” He punctuates his question by sharpening his thrusts. 

You don’t respond. You don’t even blink. It won’t matter what you say. Nothing matters. 

His hips sputter and he grunts as his seed fills your unwilling womb. He jerks his hips into you a couple times to make sure you got it all. He pulls out of you and finally lets you go. Without his weight holding you up, you crumble to the ground. You bare and used bottom half rests on the dirty floor as you bring your knees to your chest. You lean against the ice machine, not trusting your ability to hold yourself up. You stare blankly at Dean as you watch him fasten his zipper. He doesn’t look any different. 

“Like I said, sweetheart, I got some business to take care of right now. But if I have time after, I’ll see if I can stop by and we can go another round,” his voice is light and carefree. But, it has never sounded more threatening. He spares you one last glance before turning to walk away. “Cute PJs by the way,” he shouts over his shoulder. 

You hear the faint sounds of him whistling before he gets into his car and drives away. 

After a few minutes of sitting in silence, you pull your shorts back over your abused core. The waistband presses into where bruises are forming over your hips. You stumble back to your room. With every step, you feel him leaking out of you.

You get back to the safety of your room but do not find the security you were hoping for. You don’t know what to do. You look at your pile of maps and research. You look at all the wasted effort you put into finding Dean. It all seems so pointless now. There is no coming back from this. There is no bringing him back. There is no bringing  _ you _ back. 

You find your phone and send one text with only two words. You tell Sam the city and state you are in. You know he will follow your lead. Finding and dealing with Dean is his problem now. You’re done, with everything. 

The threat of Dean’s return looms in the air. You don’t know when or if he’ll come back for you. But, you know you shouldn’t wait around to find out. You have to be gone before he gets back. 

You look over at your car keys sitting on the table. You don’t want to run. You can’t outrun this. It will follow you everywhere. Right next to your keys is your hunting equipment. A thought crosses your mind that should scare you but instead it fills you with an unfamiliar peace. 

You have to be gone before he gets back. 

You stand up and walk over to the table. You pick up the silver blade Dean had given you for your birthday a couple years ago. A sad smile spreads across your lips as you realize the promises it holds. It can free you. 

You go to the washroom and run yourself a warm bath. You get in and the hot water aggravates your assaulted core. You let the pain settle into a dull throb before you take your knife into your left hand. You take a deep breath and look down. Your pajama shirt is torn and has streaks of grime along the front from where it rubbed against the dirty ice machine. No matter what you do, the stains of what he did to you are permanent. 

Your breath shakes as you grip your knife tighter. You have to be gone before he gets back. 

Your head feels light as the bath water runs red. Your livelihood drains out of you but your will to live had already been stolen. In your last moments, you force yourself to remember Dean the way he was. Your last thoughts are of  _ your _ Dean, not the monster who killed you.

* * *

 

“Where the hell is she?” Dean yells his question again when his brother and best friend refused to answer the first time. Memories of that night replay in his mind. He can feel you struggle against him. He can feel himself hold you down and crack your head against the metal. He can hear you plead with him to stop. He can taste your tears. 

He remembers promising to come back for you, but he never did. He got sidetracked with another job and never went back to your motel. He is grateful for that fact. He knows that the demon inside him had much worse planned for you. 

He struggles against his restraints like a caged animal. Dean settles down but doesn’t bother to hide the fact his chin quivers with regret. “Please, just tell me where she is. I need to know she’s okay,” Dean begs. 

Sam and Cas share another look. Neither one wants to tell the broken man in front of them the truth. But, he has to know.

Sam clears his throat and steps forward. “She’s gone, Dean.”

  
  



End file.
